Darkness on the Edge of Town
by kaceywithak
Summary: In 1978 the United States cracked down on organized crime, using all types of informants to gather intel and make their arrests. Katniss Everdeen had one job: find out information about the powerful and dangerous Mellark Family and pass it along to the police. Her orders were simple. It was Peeta Mellark that made everything so complicated.
1. Prologue

_Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. I just like to have a little fun with SC's incredible characters._

_This idea has been brewing in my head for a while and with the push from my fabulous tumblr gang, it's happening!_

_Thank you to sponsormusings for encouraging me to share my stories, even when I'm crazy nervous, and justmellarky/acciograce for being an very patient beta and allowing me to bounce ideas off of her. Without these two this story would have stayed in a Word document forever!_

_Rating is M because later things will get a bit wild. It's the 70's, what do you expect?!_

**Prologue**

_February, 1979_

The beginning of "Start Me Up" plays on the old radio a few booths down. Normally any guitar riff played by Keith Richards would have a positive effect on my mood, but not today.

I glance at the old clock hanging across the room. 4:46. Haymitch is late. As usual.

I remember the first time we met at The Hob, an old and nearly out-of-business diner that smelled of stale cigars and burnt coffee. I was apprehensive about the job and borderline nervous. The anxiety I felt that day seems laughable compared to the knot in my stomach today.

_It__'__ll be okay Katniss_. I can clearly hear Peeta's his voice in my head and I remember his sleepy grin this morning. I've lived with my name nearly 19 years but no one can say it quite like he can. Usually thinking of his voice, or thinking of him in general, puts my mind at ease but today is different. Today it only reminds me of what I could possibly lose if this doesn't go right.

I smell Haymitch before I actually see him: it's the now-familiar mix of Old Spice, scotch and tobacco. He slides into the red booth across from me, not quite as graceful as most people would expect a Capitol City Detective to be, but when I think about it, Haymitch is about as far from the normal detective as you can get.

Not that I should talk: I'm an under-twenty undercover civilian who is working with the police department to bring down the biggest organized crime family in our district. People aren't always what they seem.

"You wanted to meet, sweetheart?" Haymitch looks mildly annoyed but I'm far to too used to him to care.

"Tonight," I start, noticing my tone is strong and steady. I'm grateful because those are the last two things I actually feel. "If the plan goes south," _Like I know it will_, I think to myself. "You get him out of there. I don't care what covers are blown and I _don__'__t_ care the cost. Peeta lives."

We hold each other's gaze. I'm stubborn and he knows it, but Haymitch is looking at me differently than his usual irritation. He seems to be sizing me up.

"You're awfully low on my priority list to be making such high demands." His voice is lazy, but his slight smirk betrays him and I know that no matter what problems I gave him over the last six months, I earned his respect.

"Promise me, Haymitch." I lean forward and I don't break eye contact. "If shit hits the fan, you get him out of there."

"Can I ask you something?" He leans in closer to me , more focused than before. "Why protect _him_?"

His question momentarily stumps me, though a thousand answers run through my head. How could I even begin to explain to Haymitch what Peeta means to me? What he has done for me? His charm and easy- going nature is what draws most people in, but for me it's his unending kindness. He gives with his whole heart and expects nothing in return. Peeta is quite simply the best person I know.

"He was born into a life he never wanted." My voice takes on a pleading tone. "This could be his only way out, his only chance. He deserves that, Haymitch."

Haymitch lets out a long sigh and sits back into the booth.

"It's a good plan." He starts and I hold my tongue because I think it's a rotten plan but apparently no one wants to hear that. "But if things go wrong…I'll do everything I can to get him out of there." My shoulders deflate and my anxiety goes down one notch.

"Thank you Haymitch." Both of us are fairly uncomfortable atwith how emotional this is getting. It's much easier between Haymitch and I when we are discussing things like hidden microphones, money laundering and the dismal season of the Capitol Canaries baseball team. We sit in silence for a few minutes before he roughly clears his throat.

"Look, when you're in there tonight…" he stops to make sure I am paying full attention to him. "In there you are playing your part. But you've got to remember who the real enemy is."

I nod curtly even though I don't quite know what he means. The real enemy? The lines in my life between good and bad wereare so blurred already. Everything wasis just a game, no matter what side you wereare on. But the game ends ed tonight. After tonight, Peeta would will be free from the confines of his family name and I would will be free of my debt to the police department. Hope was is the only thing I couldcan hold on to now.

"Any last advice?" I ask, glancing at the clock on the wall again. I havehad to be going if I am was going to be ready in time. I look back to Haymitch. He looks like he wants to say something but then decides against it. Finally he answers.

"Stay alive." It's simple instructionsIt's a simple instruction but the weight it holds makesthey hold make me wonder if Haymitch is as apprehensive about this plan as I am. I nod again, slower this time, to let him know I understand both the advice and the things he can't say. I stand up and leave the booth, knowing if I turn around I'll ask too many questions and I don't have the luxury of time on my side. I make my way through the Hob and out the front door, tugging my jacket closer around my body.

_It__'__ll be okay Katniss._ I hear his voice again, but even in my head Peeta sounds about as nervous as I am. I take a deep breath and try to focus.

Let the games begin.

* * *

_The title of this story comes from an amazing Bruce Springsteen song, released in 1978._

_Thank you for checking this story out! Chapter 1 will be up soon. Please take a moment and let me know your thoughts...and come hang out with me on tumblr. I am kaceywithak there too :)_


	2. Wine and roses ain't quite over

_The INCREDIBLE banner was made my Ro Nordmann. I'm always so amazed by the talent in this fandom!_

_Once again, without justmellarky/acciograce this chapter would not have been possible. Girl is a godsend :)_

**Chapter 1: Wine and roses ain't quite over, fate deals a losing hand**

_August, 1978_

_Six months earlier_

God, this city is hot in the summer.

People think July is the scorcher month, but it's got nothing on the humid and hazy days of August. I'm lucky to work up front in the bakery, if only for the window unit blowing cool air. Whenever I have to run back to the kitchen I'm always hit with a blast of heat from the ovens. Peeta's white shirt is usually soaked with sweat by mid-morning and sticking to his body. But I pretend not to notice that. I pretend not to notice a lot of things about Peeta Mellark.

It isn't easy.

"Good morning Katniss,"He greets me with a smile and I wonder exactly how much coffee it takes for someone to be so chipper at quarter to six in the morning.

"Morning,"I am not nearly as enthusiastic and I make my way through the back door and through the already scorching kitchen. He has two fans going, but Peeta never turns the fans on full blast. I asked him about it once and he said he couldn't hear the radio over the noise. I've been working with Peeta five days a week for the past three months: we've never had a quiet bakery.

I make my way up to the front and flick on the lights, noticing the one over the door takes an extra few seconds to come on. Mellark's is a small bakery and the avocado countertops certainly stand out against the dark brown paneling on the walls, but it's the kind of little shop on the corner that people enjoy coming to. Even if they have to be served by me.

I unlock the front door and flip the sign to read "open", but the first customer of the day is already at the door. I open it slightly and let him in. He's tall and looks a few years older than me, and his stripped polo looks ready to burst at the seams as it stretches over his broad chest. It takes me a moment, but I recognize him.

"Sorry, just opening up."I mumble and he steps in, completely invading my personal space but I know I don't have to be my fake cheerful self to him.

This customer isn't here for a loaf of bread.

"Mellark in?"He asks and his eyes look me up and down. _Geez_. _This_ is why I stay behind the counter: the only shorts a girl can buy now a days are ridiculous hot pants and I wasn't about to wear a skirt to work. I purposely size up in my Mellark's Bakery shirts, but I fear that makes the shorts look even shorter.

"Which one?"I raise an eyebrow and he gives me an annoyed look. Our attention turns to the sound of a throat clearing and I see Peeta walk out of the kitchen, wiping his hands off with a rag.

"Everything alright?"He asks and though his voice is pleasant, it lacks the usual cheerfulness.

"Stopping by for Tristan."Cato answers and he smirks when he notices the flour covering Peeta's arms. "Little Peeta, out of school and yet your old man still won't let you work the real business?"He's cocky but Peeta gives no reaction to the implication.

"I'd be happy to invite you to family dinner if you would like to tell my father how to run things."I bite my lip to keep from smiling: Peeta doesn't have to use a sarcastic tone or raise his voice to shut Cato up.

"I'll be around later,"Cato mutters but he gives me another once-over before leaving out the door. I scowl at his back and offer to help Peeta stock the bread bins.

There's an old local saying for our town—Capitol City runs on three things: coal, cocktails and crime. The coal is a given, we are the product of a large mining settlement and conveniently located along a river. Though these days mining is a rough business to build a city on; the crisis a few years back was only part of the problem, not the height of it. Hence where the cocktails come in; you'd be hard pressed to find a bar that didn't have miners lining up once that whistle rings at the end of the day.

But living in a place where waves of different people come in to work means clashes, and clashes means lines are drawn. There isn't an official map or anything, but the divisions are clear and you don't want to step outside of your own. No one gets rich shoveling coal six days a week, but if you are willing to cast aside your moral code there were other ways to make a living.

The Mellark Family can help you out with that.

They are a rich, powerful family you don't want to be in debt to. I'm not sure how it all started but ever since I can remember you just _knew_ not to cross them. They own the bakery, a dry cleaning business and have "investments"that are clearly paying off. When a family gets desperate, they go to Mr. Mellark for a favor and in time they return the favor. It can get ugly, but that's the way it is.

After the lunch hour rush (and after the temperature rises to a unbearable 96 degrees), Peeta's older brother comes in. Tristan Mellark is the middle of the three boys, a few years older than Peeta and I, and downright dangerous. He's the same height as Peeta, but his build is more like Cato's: bulky and menacing. Where the oldest brother, William, is strong and silent Tristan is loud and trouble. He mouths off to teachers, police officers and anyone else who gets in his way.

"Good afternoon,"I say politely as he barrels in the door. He looks pissed off, which isn't too different from usual, and he heads back to the kitchen without so much as a nod of acknowledgement. I busy myself with stacking the receipt copies in an orderly fashion but I can't help but overhear voices from the back.

"_Look, take it up with Will. I have no idea where it is_."Peeta sounds like he's trying to calm his brother down. "_You know that's not my area_."

"_Yeah and why the fuck not, Peet?_"Tristan always sounds like a firecracker waiting to be lit. "_You've been out of school a damn summer and what do you have to show for the family, huh?_"

"_Shut up, Tristan. You don't know what you're talking about_."Peeta's voice is rising and I tap my fingers nervously on the counter. I've known Peeta since the first grade but I can't recall a time I ever heard him raise his voice. "_I already told you, go talk to Will._"

"_I'm talking to _you!"Their voices lower at the sound of the door chiming. I look up and see my younger sister walk in.

"It's so hot out there! Katniss, we _have_ to get ice cream on the way home, _please_."At fourteen years old, Prim is a poster child for the trends of the summer: ridiculously short pink hot pants, a crop top that barely stays on her shoulders and a few flowers pinned in her long blonde hair. She pushes her oversized white sunglasses to the top of her head and gives me a pleading look.

"I thought you were seeing _Grease_ again with Emily today."I take in her slightly pink skin. Clearly she had forgone the movie and instead slathered baby oil on and tanned on our roof. If I didn't love Prim so much I would never believe we were sisters.

"The movie theater had a pipe burst!"Prim throws up her hands dramatically and I snigger at her expression. "It's completely flooded and I'm _not _taking two busses to get to the one across town. What are we doing for dinner tonight?"

"Turkey sandwiches. I'm not turning the oven on and melting our apartment."Prim smiles and gazes at the decorated cookies in the display.

"Can we at least get one of these cookies for dessert?"

"Of course you can,"We both turn and see Peeta come out of the back. I hear a faint door slam and know Tristan must have left out the kitchen door. "How's it going, Prim?"

"Hi Peeta!"She says brightly. "I came to walk Katniss back from work."

"Quite nice of you."He points to the elaborate display of cookies. "Which are your favorites?"

"I love that one,"she points to a blue flower. "Oh, and that one!"she points to another white flower and Peeta takes three of each and puts them in a brown paper bag.

"Peeta,"I start, knowing full well he'll refuse to take any money for them. He simply smiles and hands the bag to Prim who squeals with delight.

"Have a good rest of the day, Katniss."He's giving me a crooked grin and I can't help but nod and wish him one as well.

"See you tomorrow,"I say before Prim and I head out the door. I chance one more glance back just as Peeta quickly turns his head away. Weird.

"You're soooo lucky Peeta is your boss, Katniss. He's so nice and sweet and cute-"

"Prim,"I warn, knowing where she is going. Prim has been on my case about Peeta Mellark since I started work. I'm not blind: I know Peeta is handsome and he seems like a genuinely nice person. But I can't afford to think about boys, not with Prim to take care of. Besides, he's a Mellark. He's destined for a life I don't ever want to be a part of and the whole nice boy act will drop soon enough.

"_Fiiiine_. I'm just saying. Anyway, so Lizzie cut her hair short, I have no idea why, but now it's going to look very weird for school in a few weeks…"I listen to Prim rattle on about her friends and their hair choices as we slowly make our way to the ice cream shop and then back home to the apartment. Our irritable cat Buttercup is waiting at the door and he hisses at me when I kick my Keds off. We have dinner in front of the fan and talk about how we'll eventually miss this weather in January when we're huddled around a heater. A knock at the door startles us.

"Who is it?"I ask the door cautiously, wishing our landlord would install one of those peek-hole things in the door.

"Detective Haymitch Abernathy, Capitol City Police."A gruff voice responds and my stomach drops. I look over to Prim and motion for her to get in her room. She nods and quickly darts off before I slowly open the door.

A man who looks around 40 stands on the other side, holding his badge and sizing me up. He's not dressed in uniform; instead he wears gray pants and a wrinkled white shirt. His eyes cut to mine.

"Inside."He motions in to my apartment and I let him in, despite his rudeness, because I'm not quite sure what to make of this Detective Abernathy. He smells strongly of something I can't put my finger on and he makes his way to out small fold up table and sits down.

"Can I help you?"I ask with no hint of politeness. _Who does this guy think he is?_

"Oh, I think you can sweetheart."He glances at the empty folding chair and then back to me. "Well go ahead and sit."

"Are you going to tell me what you're doing here?"

"Most people aren't so…eager…to find out why a detective shows up at their doorstep."

"Well I'm not most people."My short answer seems to please him and I take a seat. He takes a minute to scan the apartment before turning his attention to me.

"Your mother around?"I tense. My mother left almost five months ago, disappearing from our lives without a second thought. Six years ago my father died in an accident at the mines and she was never the same since: never left the house, never bothered to get a job to put food on the table. At twelve years old I took the reigns of the family: we moved into a smaller apartment and I spent my days after school cleaning houses with Hazelle Hawthorne. Getting the full time job at the bakery was a blessing and I didn't hesitate to take it. It wasn't much, but it kept food on the table and I worked to make sure Prim never had to have the kind of teenage years I did. She could have time to study, time to spend with friends—hell, she was even talking about playing field hockey in the fall. I hate my mother for what she did and hate her for leaving, but I'm not sure it's this man's business.

"Not right now,"I answer coolly. He stares as me and then sighs deeply.

"Look, kid, we can do this the easy way or the hard way."I don't respond but he continues. "I know your mother hasn't been around for months and I also know you've got your younger sister still living with you, despite the fact you aren't her legal guardian."The knot in my stomach intensifies and I wring my hands together, squeezing them tight to keep myself focused.

"I'm not sure why you're here, Officer Abernathy."In a desperate attempt I start talking. "I don't do anything wrong, I pay my bills and have a steady job—"

"You work at Mellark's Bakery, don't you?"He asks it as a question though its clear he already knows the answer. "Been there a couple months?"

"Yes."It's work to keep my voice steady and low and I say a silent prayer Prim doesn't have to come out and use the bathroom. Officer Abernathy must notice my discomfort because he leans forward. "Listen, sweetheart I'm going to be straight with you. You know what kind of business the Mellark family runs and you know what kind of job I'm in. I'm willing to cut you some slack, so long as you keep caring for your sister like you are now. Maybe I can even help you become her guardian. Bottom line is I don't have to tell anyone about your little family arrangement. But I'm going to need a little help from you as well."

"What kind of help?"I'm both defensive and intrigued. The fear of Prim being taken and put into a children's home keeps me awake most nights. And if this detective could help me make things legitimate, who says I can't do something small and probably stupid for him?

"Working in the bakery you must hear things…see people. I need to know who they are."I consider his proposition.

"So if I tell you names of who goes in the back…then you'll help me get guardianship of Prim?"This seems too easy. I know I'm right when Haymitch lets out a short barking laugh.

"Names, I've got. It's what they do that I need. I need to know how often they go there, what they pick up, what they leave behind."

"I think you've got me mixed up with someone else. I just work the front register."He cocks his head to the left and narrows his eyes at me.

"I've spent ten minutes with you and I see you've got as much charm as a dead slug. You wouldn't be working with customers unless there was someone in the Mellark family who wanted you around."His words strike me as odd: no one in the Mellark family really cares if I am around. They just want someone to do the job. I mean sure, I don't have Peeta's bubbling personality, but I sell bread just fine.

But when I think about it again I wonder if Haymitch has a point. The dry cleaner employees consist of cousins and very close friends of the family. The weekend bakery shift are two men that have been hanging around the Mellark family for as long as I can remember and it's Peeta's brother who does the night prep work and the closing. So why was I hired? I was an outsider to these people…and yet Peeta had nearly given me the job on the spot.

I push those thoughts aside, there are more important things to think about. Can I get the information Officer Abernathy was asking for? And if I turn him down, will he turn Prim and I in? I can't see a way out, not when they already have too much information on me and not when I have Prim to protect.

"So what do I do?"I ask quietly. He looks like he was expecting my answer.

"You meet me at this address tomorrow at 7:15 p.m., after you've slept on it and are 100% committed."He slides a piece of wrinkled paper across the table. Written on it is the address for a place on the outskirts of the Seam section of the city.

"And you'll tell me what to do?"I hate that my voice sounds small. For a split second his eyes soften, but just as quickly they go back to their steely expression.

"Yeah kid, I'll tell you what to do."He lets himself out and I lean back on my chair, letting a sound out that's an odd mixture of a sigh and a groan. Prim's door creaks open and she walks over, sitting down in the chair that Officer Abernathy left from.

"Are you gonna do it, Katniss?"Her voice is soft and I rub my face with my hands, trying to make sense of the past twenty minutes.

"I don't really have a choice, Prim. But it'll be just fine."I'm quick to reassure her though I don't believe my words. I'm staring at the wrinkled paper when Prim hands me one of Peeta's perfectly decorated cookies. I stare at it: how Peeta manages to turn a simple sugar cookie into a piece of art is something I can never get a hold on.

_Peeta_. Thinking of him does nothing to relax the knot in my stomach and I know I will have to stop thinking of him as the same bright eyed boy who I attended school with. If I want to do this job correctly I have to think of him as the police department thinks of him: a threat. A lawbreaker. A danger to a peaceful society and responsible for unthinkable acts.

It's where he's headed anyway.

—

The title for thing chapter comes from "For Your Life"by Led Zeppelin. Please let me know what you think or come hang with me on tumblr! I'm kaceywithak there too :)


	3. You know I don't even know

_Once again I am absolutely amazed with the response to this story! I hope you guys enjoy this next chapter...I promise Chapter 3 will be posted much quicker than this one :)_

_justmellarky/acciograce - my biggest cheerleader is the reason I have any confidence at al! thank you love!_

**Chapter 2: You know I don't even know what I'm hoping to find**

Usually at 5:00 in the morning I am cursing the old alarm clock and batting at the snooze button. But today I am already awake when the dull tones begin. I didn't get much sleep after the visit from Officer Abernathy.

I pull myself out of the twin bed and head to the bathroom for a shower. When Prim and I realized my mother wasn't coming back, I moved my things into her old room and gave Prim full control of our once shared bedroom. It works out well since I wake up so early and Prim has gotten in the habit of covering the walls with posters of celebrities. I can only change in front of David Cassidy and Andy Gibb so many times before it gets very weird.

Neither the shower nor the walk to work clear my head, and I startle when Peeta wishes me a good morning before I walk in the back door.

"Didn't mean to scare you," He sounds apologetic but I shake my head.

"Just surprised." I answer. The sun hasn't risen yet, but the light over the back door illuminates Peeta. He has a full flour sack lazily thrown over his shoulder, like it weighs nothing, even though its well over one hundred pounds. He nods and turns to walk up the back steps into the door. I follow and its hard not to smile when I hear what song is playing from his radio.

"You like Peter Frampton?" Peeta looks interested and a bit puzzled.

"Prim's in love with him." I smile just talking about her. "Last year I bought her the 'Frampton Comes Alive' album for her birthday. She played it all the time. She still does." The right corner of Peeta's mouth lifts into a grin and his eyes shine. It's quite possibly the most I've ever said to Peeta Mellark and I worry I'm rambling, but he doesn't seem to mind. In fact, he looks like it's the most interesting thing he's heard today.

"What's your favorite song?" I hesitate for a minute and ponder his question.

"Probably 'It's a Plain Shame.' Prim ruins the love ballads for me by playing them until I have to warn her about the record wearing out."

"Pretty badass song choice." His tone is approving. "How do you feel about 'Jumpin Jack Flash?'" I make a face.

"I'm picky when it comes to covers of The Stones. Frampton just doesn't cut it." Peeta throws his hands in the air and raises his head to the sky. He oddly looks like he is in church.

"Yes! _Finally_ someone agrees with me!" His hands flop down to his sides. "I mean, it's pretty wild his early stuff never caught on, but his live album won album of the year. But you just _don__'__t _touch some of Jagger and Richards' songs."

"Halfway through, it just sounds like he forgets what song he is supposed to be playing."

"Well, when you take multiple guitar solos, it's easy to mix it up." He gives another one of those crooked grins and I softly laugh. We're quiet for a minute.

"I better open up," I gesture to the front and he nods.

"We'll discuss the _Some Girls_ album later!" He calls after my retreating figure and I resist the urge to laugh again. It's not until I am unlocking the front door that I remember my visit from Officer Abernathy last night.

I freeze, realizing what I have done. In one short conversation I completely forgot what I am supposed to do. I let my guard down and I let myself get sucked into his easy-going charm.

I know how to deal with people like me; the ones who shut people out and constantly question the motives of others. They are easy, almost simple, to figure out.

A kind, sweet Peeta Mellark is far more dangerous.

I finish opening the front and resolve to remain focused. The only way I can succeed in getting the police the information they need is if I stay on my guard at all times. _No more slip-ups._

The morning is busy and I am grateful for the distraction. Peeta is barely able to leave the back area, thus saving me from having to ignore him if he tries to engage me in another conversation. I'm on edge as I fill out orders for cakes and ring up loaves of fresh bread, nervous about my meeting tonight. After noon the rush begins to die down and I decide I can spare a few minutes to eat my packed sandwich, but the door jingles open.

"Hi Katniss!" _Oh god_. Delly Cartwright walks in and I resist the urge to roll my eyes. She bounces across the tile, clad in a shocking pink mini dress and ridiculously high wedge sandals. Her sunglasses are clones of Jackie O's oversized shades and she pushes them on top of her head. I wonder if they will get lost there: Delly's curls were teased so high that she resembles a blonde version of Wonder Woman.

"Hi Delly," If Delly's enthusiastic greeting is at 100%, mine barely scratches 12. It's not that I really mind the girl, it's just that being caught up in a Delly Cartwright conversation usually leaves you feeling confused and exhausted.

"Good GOD, but it is _hot_ out there!" She fans herself for dramatic effect. "So I'm out to pick up a new nail polish this morning and who do I run in to but Bristel Grady! She's heading back to college next week but she wants to go to the Disco Club on Friday and I said _right on_! So now I am rallying the troops and I totally think you should come!" _Did she even breathe during that sentence?_ Delly is looking at me expectantly and I clear my throat.

"Um, thanks. But I've got my sister to watch." Truthfully Prim will most likely be out with friends but there is no way I am stepping foot in a disco club. Delly makes a distraught face.

"If only Prim look a bit older, we could totally sneak her in." I give her a wry smile. Over my dead body is Prim going to one of those clubs downtown. "I'm meeting Andy Finnegan for lunch, do you think this looks okay?" She does a twirl in her mini-dress and I half expect to see her underwear.

"It looks nice." I'm awful at girl talk but Delly doesn't seem to mind.

"I mean it's kind of a date, I guess? Do you think people usually take girls they've known their whole lives out on dates? He called a few days ago and wants to go out so I'd say it's a date. You don't plan things unless you like someone, right?" I get the feeling she is talking to herself but I attempt to answer.

"I wouldn't really know. But it sounds like a date to me." I am saved when Peeta comes out of the kitchen.

"Oh God, Peeta you look gross! Don't you dare hug me!" She wags one perfectly manicured finger at him and he chuckles. I chance a glance at Peeta and immediately regret it: his white shirt sticks to his body with damp sweat and outlines his muscular chest and abs. It must be one of his older shirts judging by the slightly frayed collar and the thin material. I tear my gaze away.

"You all set for your date then?"

"Did_ he_ say it was a _date_?" She shrieks and I wonder if it's humanly possible for her voice to get higher.

"He said you're taking him out for lunch. It's the seventies, women can burn their bras and pay for sandwiches now." He is teasing her and Delly catches on a second after I do.

"Peeta, you're such a dweeb!" She's indignant but she's also laughing. Peeta catches my eyes and winks. It suddenly feels like the air conditioning ceases to work.

"Relax Del, you're going to have a great time. You're going to Nicky's, right?" Delly nods excitedly and her sunglasses get even more lost in her hair. "Nicky's a good guy, make sure he seats you by the window. You'll get a good view of the river."

"I'm not name-dropping _you_ on _my_ date." Delly rolls her eyes. "I'm sure Andy can get us a table just fine." Peeta shrugs and Delly glances at the old clock hanging in the front. "Well, I gotta go, I'm meeting him at the corner. Thanks for the talk, Katniss!" She beams at me. _Was she serious?_ "Catch you on the flip side!" She yells the stupid expression as she nearly skips out the door. Peeta chuckles as he watches her leave.

"A woman of many, many words." I simply nod in agreement with him. "I guess she's right though. I better, uh, change." He gestures to his shirt and my cheekbones start to warm.

Another customer walks in, this one I know not here for a sweet afternoon treat. He gruffly says "Mellark?" and I nod curtly. I duck my head into the kitchen and catch a glimpse of Peeta pulling his shirt over his head. I practically jump back so I am out of his view, my face flaming.

"Uh, Peeta?" My voice is an octave higher than normal. "There's someone here for you."

"Be there in a minute," he calls.

I spend the rest of my shift actively trying_ not_ to think of the golden hairs I saw trailing from his broad chest to the top of his jeans.

—

It's a twelve-minute bus ride to the corner of 51st and Cane from the stop closest to my apartment. The bus is hot and the man next to me smells strongly of marijuana. He keeps nodding off and I wonder if his stop has already come and gone.

I have the address memorized and I am not surprised when I turn onto a shady sort of street. The Seam section isn't exactly the best part of town. It's where the poorest of the poor lives, the ones who can't even find work at the mines. Drug deals could be made in broad daylight: no one gets caught because no one cares.

I reach my destination and survey the building. It is an old diner, emphasis on the _old_. It clearly hasn't been updated in over twenty years.

The front window has a layer on dirt on it and yellowing paper advertises the "best cup'a Joe in town." A weathered sign hangs above the window and it reads: The Hob.

The place is a dump but I lift my chin and walk in. Hollow bells clink against each other when I push the door open and one whiff of the place assures me that their coffee is definitely _not_ the best in town. An older woman is setting a sandwich in front of a customer and she tells me to "sit anywhere." There are only two customers here so I have my selection of booths, but the nature of my meeting leads me to choose a seat closer to the back. I order nothing and I wait.

Haymitch arrives nearly twenty minutes late and offers no apology. I'm not surprised, but I am annoyed. It's getting late and catching the bus on this side of town is no easy feat.

"Were you followed?" are the first words he speaks to me.

"What?"

"Anyone follow you here from your side of town?" I shake my head and I realize why Haymitch picked such a random and inconvenient spot for our meet. The Seam section is not Mellark territory. "So you think about it?" I nod slowly.

"How long will I have to do this?" I ask. He sighs.

"Until I've got the information I need." _What a bullshit answer_. I'm about to call him out him on it when he reaches into his worn briefcase and pulls out a manila folder. He slides it over to me.

"There are three men in this folder. I want you to memorize their faces and their names. And if they come in to the bakery I want you to report how long they stay and if they leave with anything they didn't have before."

"_Anything_ they didn't have before?"

"Anything." He places a wrinkled business card onto of the file. "You're to call me from a pay phone and report the information using the code names listed at the bottom of each page. After you memorize the names, code names and faces of each person you are to immediately burn this file. Do you understand?"

"I understand." I sound more sure than I am. "I just report to you what you need. It doesn't seem too difficult."

"It'll get difficult if you get caught." He speaks bluntly and my stomach drops. "Capitol City Police cannot and will not claim you if something happens." His gray eyes meet mine and my hands wring together in my lap.

"So I'm on my own then?"

He nods. "Can you handle that?"

I scowl.

"I can handle a lot more than other people my age, Officer Abernathy." I'm defiant and he seems to enjoy it because he gives a short chuckle and slides out of the booth. He's about to walk past me when he stops and leans down.

"And sweetheart? If we're going to be spending so much time together you might as well call me Haymitch." I scowl again, but he's already out the door. I wait a few minutes before I leave.

—

I only know one of the men in the file, the other two take more effort to memorize. It's nearly midnight when I finally feel confident enough to destroy the descriptions and rough sketch.

I light a match and carefully burn each sheet. I'm staring at the bronze haired boy's face crumble into ashes before my eyes when my mind wanders to a place I have been trying to ignore. There's a strong possibility it could soon be Peeta's information on a sheet just like this one, a rough sketch of his face, a label of "THREAT." But the thought of watching even a sketch of Peeta catch fire before my eyes, knowing what I would have to do after, is more than I can handle tonight.

My stomach remains in knots and for the second night in a row I don't sleep.

_The title comes from the Jackson Browne song __"__Running on Empty__"_

_Come play on tumblr for behind-the-scenes on the Mafia Mellarks! I am kaceywithak there too_


	4. Throw it all at me, I can shrug it off

_Once again I am insanely grateful and excited about the reviews, favorites and shares this story has gotten! I am having a really fun time writing it and it makes me so happy to read your thoughts. I can not thank justmellarky/acciograce enough for being my brain-twin and cheering on this story as it develops. _

_Happy reading and I hope you all have a wonderful weekend!_

**Chapter 3: Throw it all at me, I can shrug it off**

_September, 1978_

"I've got two for you." I say in response to Haymitch answering the phone. Usually I get Johanna when I call the office, a woman detective who I can tell simply by her voice not to cross, but not today. "Fox 33: yesterday for six minutes, all in back. When he came in a brown paper bag was sticking out of his back jeans pocket. He left without it and without anything else. Green 4: stayed for twenty minutes, ten in front, ten in back. Left with small box in his back pocket."

I roll my eyes remembering the charismatic man with bronze hair and bright green eyes. He was obnoxiously flirtatious and kept asking about nuts in the bread before Peeta came and got him.

"That's it." I finish.

"Got it." Haymitch hangs up the phone without another word and I exit the old phone booth.

—

The back light is dim when I approach the bakery and I frown when I realize there is no light coming from the building. The door is locked and confirms my suspicion: Peeta isn't here.

I bite my lip and decide to wait a few minutes on the back step. The alley is quiet and I tap my fingers against my thigh. The wooden step is cool against my skin when I sit down.

Ten minutes pass and I begin to fidget. Peeta has never been late to the bakery. I think back to high school and I cannot recall a time where he was even late to a class. I start to feel slightly anxious and stand up.

_Could something have happened to him?_ I dismiss the thought with a rough shake of my head. Peeta is not only perfectly capable of taking care of himself but no one would dare to mess with a Mellark.

_Except you_. This thought is impossible to dismiss and I feel my heart rate quicken. The police can't possibly have enough information yet. It's barely been a month and I've only done three call-ins. Even so, I shouldn't be so concerned. _I__'__m _not the one breaking the law.

A pair of headlights interrupts my internal battle I sigh in relief as Peeta's Camaro stops.

"I'm so sorry!" Peeta is quick to exit the car and he frantically runs a hand through his blonde curls. "That storm we had must have kicked the power, my alarm was shit and no one else is awake at the hour." He steps into the back light and I notice his shirt is inside out and he has a hint of stubble lining his jaw. He looks like he literally bolted out of bed.

"It's okay—"

"I never sleep this late!" He's distraught and I decide not to bring up the shirt. Or the fact that quarter to six isn't exactly a sleep in.

"It's really fine." I shrug my shoulders and he shoots me another apologetic look before locating the key to the building.

The morning is rushed, both with Peeta remaining frazzled and customers crowding the front to escape the rain. It starts as a late morning drizzle but by the early afternoon it is full on pouring.

Delly stops by, sporting a hot pink rain jacket, boots and matching umbrella. Since neither of us went off to college this fall, she makes a habit of coming into the bakery three times a week for "girl talk" (Though really only Delly talks. I mostly nod.)

"It's been raining for ages!" Delly announces, taking off her jacket hood. Even in a storm, her hair never moves. "I had to take cover in the record store when it got bad but then _Claudia Glimmer_ and her posse of hoes walked in and I am NOT standing in the same room as her. God, she makes me crazy." Delly and Claudia had a feud that apparently went back to the fifth grade when Claudia told the class Delly stuffed her bra with tissues. I was in that class and remember none of it, but Delly describes it as being traumatic.

"Do you want anything? Peeta made Coffee Cupcakes with Buttercream icing." I motion to the display case and her eyes light up.

"Katniss, you know me _so _well!" I really don't, but I get her the cupcake anyway. She digs in her purse but I shake my head.

"You know he won't let me take your money." This is an ongoing battle between Delly and Peeta.

"He means well, but he is _such_ a pain." She starts eating her cupcake and makes a sound of approval. "He can make a mean cupcake though." The doorbell chimes and Tristan walks in, looking thoroughly pissed off.

"Tristan!" Delly either ignores his mood or is immune to it. "I _never_ get to see you!"

"What's happening?" Tristan stops and gives her a slight smile. It's the only time I've ever heard a hint of affection in his voice.

"Oh, you know, trying not to drown out there. Katniss and I were just talking about your brother."

"You were?" He asks and he raises an eyebrow at me. I bite my lip and say nothing, though I notice he and Peeta have the exact same angular jaw.

"_You__'__d_ let me pay for a cupcake, wouldn't you?" She motions to her half eaten cupcake and he chuckles.

"Course I would, Del. Just saw your cousin at the dry cleaners, he says you're trying to fix me up." He quirks his eyebrow again and she dramatically sighs.

"Jacob is such a tattletale."

"Stop sending me girls, Delly." His tone is still good-natured, even though he is trying to sound annoyed.

"Geez, you make it sound like I'm some pimp! I'm just trying to get you a nice girl, don't you want to be happy and married like Will?" He rolls his eyes and heads towards the back. "Tristan, I am talking to you!"

"And I'm not listening!" He calls back.

"I try to do _one_ nice thing for a boy I've known for-ev-er," She finishes off the rest of her cupcakes and then goes in the back to demand Tristan drive her home.

I do a final wipe down of the counter and bread bins, noticing the rain is still coming down. I glance down at my red Keds and grimace. As if I haven't beat these shoes up enough over the past two years, I'll have to walk through a flood and figure out how to dry them in time for work tomorrow.

"Do you want a ride home?" Peeta's question takes me off guard and I turn around. He's leaning on the front counter, mindlessly looking through the receipts.

"Um, no I'll be fine." Thunder rumbles and the front window shakes. Peeta gives me a half grin and shakes his head.

"I figured you'd say that. But I'm still driving you home." The sky lights up with lightning and I know it's pointless, not to mention stupid, to actually refuse.

"I'll help finish up your stuff then." I follow him to the back and notice most of his things are already put away. Peeta grabs a small and battered notebook from his back pocket and looks it over, crossing a few things off. "Tristan won't be back in until later to do the prep work." He explains, writing down a few things.

'Why doesn't he work during the day?" Peeta doesn't take his eyes off of the notepad but I see his jaw tense.

"He's got other things to do." There is a slight bitterness to his tone and I don't press it. When he puts the pen down and looks at me, his face is back to normal. "Why, sick of me already?" I roll my eyes and he seems to find it entertaining. "C'mon, let's make a break for it." He takes out a rung of keys and removes one. "Just run out, I'll lock up the door."

It only takes twenty seconds to sprint from the back door to his car, but I'm dripping wet when I slide in the passenger seat. I reach over and unlock Peeta's side right as he runs up. He yanks open the door and quickly gets in the car.

"Thanks for unlocking my door," He is smiling widely at me and I feel my cheeks begin to color.

"Anyone would do it," I try to brush off his gratitude but, as usual, Peeta doesn't let me.

"No, they wouldn't." He holds my gaze and now I know my cheeks are really coloring. I hand him his car key and stare out the window.

The car literally_ roars_ to life and it takes me by surprise.

"Sounds awesome, right?" Peeta looks like a kid who just opened the best birthday present and I find it sweet.

"Your car is nice." The car is as cool on the inside as it is on the outside and kept relatively clean for an eighteen year old boy. "Does it go fast?" He grins again.

"Thinking about going for a joyride? I wouldn't recommend it in this weather." He hits a knob and he radio kicks on, a commercial advertises an Atari. We slowly back out of the driveway.

"I've never driven a car."

"Definitely not in this weather, then. Hey listen," he turns up the radio. The opening riff of "Beast of Burden" comes on and I can't help but smile. It's hard for me to pick a favorite song of all time, but I have a feeling this one will always stay in the top 5.

He taps along on his steering wheel and I hum the opening verse. The rain picks up and the drops of water compete with Mick Jagger's voice, but Peeta turns the radio higher to drown the noise out.

"_Am I hard enough, am I rough enough, am I rich enough, I__'__m not too blind to see_," I don't realize I am singing along until Peeta glances over during the second chorus.

"Sorry," I say but he shakes his head. I'm surprised he heard me over the radio.

"It's a great song!" He shakes his shoulders back and forth and joins in for the bridge "_Pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty girl_." His voice is terribly off key as he tries to his the high notes and I let out an embarrassing snort. "C'mon Katniss, sing along!"

And for some reason I do. I'm not nearly as loud as he is, nor as bad, but we finish out the song together. Peeta's right hand reaches to turn the dial down.

"There are some songs you just have to listen to at full volume and sing along." I nod in agreement, but my easiness of the last three minutes fades with the song.

"How do you know where I live?" I only just realize I haven't given him any directions but he maneuvers the city streets with ease and turns on to my block with no instruction.

"You filled it out on your employment application." He shrugs. "I know the area." Another question, one that's been gnawing at me since Haymitch's first visit, pops in my mind and I do not think before asking it:

"Why did you hire me?" His eyebrows raise and he pulls into an empty spot across the street from my apartment building. He turns the car off and he rotates so he is facing me. He meets my gaze and has my full attention and I realize too late I don't want to hear his answer.

"Well, for starters, you applied." He says this kindly, though I feel like an idiot anyway. "I know you don't like people that much, but you really are good up front. You're a hard worker and you're always on time. You don't mind helping out when it's slow and you handle the rush without getting frazzled. Plus," he continues. "Taking over the bakery meant I had to hire someone I could get along with for 40 hours a week."

"You get along with everyone," I point out, ignoring his praise. He gives another shrug.

"Still doesn't mean I can trust them." And the way he looks into my eyes makes me heart sink. I can tell that he means it, that he trusts me.

I have to get out of the car.

"Well, I should, uh," I point to the apartments. "Thanks for the ride."

"Anytime, Katniss." His sincerity is suffocating and I all but sprint to the front door. I accidentally slam the door to my apartment shut and scare myself. I'm a jittery mess and I'm thankful Prim isn't home from school yet.

For the second time today I pace the room, my thoughts on Peeta Mellark. He trusts me. Obviously he trusts me with running the front of the bakery and keeping track of the purchases, but I had a feeling he meant he needs to trust someone for a lot more than receipts for cupcakes.

He needs to trust someone to keep the secrets.

And I was calling them in to freaking Capitol City Police Department.

I sink into our old couch and bury my head in my hands. _What have I gotten myself into? _

The shrill ring of the phone startles me and I walk to the kitchen to pick it off the receiver.

"Hello?"

"We need to talk." Haymitch is not the person I was expecting to hear from.

"About what?" I speak to him as shortly as he speaks to me.

"About the boy."

_DUN DUN DUN. Chapter 4 will pick up right where this left off :)_

_The title of this chapter (and the lovely soundtrack to Katniss/Peeta's car ride) comes from The Rolling Stones "Beast of Burden" (1978). _

_As always, I adore fangirling on Tumblr- I am kaceywithak there too _


	5. Baby you just ain't seen nothing yet

_Every single review on this story makes me smile and feel so happy :) this is such a wonderful and supportive fandom...Everlark shippers are the BEST shippers!_

_A huge thank you to justmellarky/acciograce for keeping me motivated through this chapter with the Tristan Mellark fangirling and the amazing cheering on._

_ALSO: This chapter is very sweary because the Mellarks are a bit hot headed and so are their enemies._

**Chapter 4: Baby, you just ain****'****t seen nothing yet.**

"What boy?" My question is calm, but my heart is beating wildly. How does he know? And, more importantly, _what_ does he know?

"Don't waste my time. The youngest one. Peeta."

"What about him?"

"You two are close." He says it as a statement and I scoff.

"I wouldn't say that. We went to school together and I work with him…but it's not like we're friends." I twist the phone cord around my finger and bite my lip.

"He gave you a ride home today."

"What, do you guilt people into following _me_ around too?" I'm as sarcastic as I've ever been with Haymitch but he doesn't take the bait.

"Listen kid, you need to find a way to see him outside the bakery." I actually take the phone away from my ear and stare at it for a second. He has got to be_ kidding _me.

"That isn't the deal," I say through my teeth. "I'm not going to pretend to be his friend or whatever. That's too far." Haymitch makes an irritated sound.

"Like it or not, that family will want to know more about you. You're lucky you've lasted this long, but they're going to want to get close to you. You have to let them get close _your _way. They do it their own way, they might not like what they find." I mull over this new development and it pains me to admit Haymitch may be right.

"So how do I let them get close?" I feel slightly moronic for relying on social advice from a forty-something detective.

"Hang out with them outside of work. Don't let them wonder about what you do on weekends because if they wonder they will eventually go looking."

"What am I supposed to do?"

"I don't know!" He sounds frustrated. "Whatever you kids do!"

"I don't _know_ what kids do!"

"Well then find out and just do it! _Jesus!_" He hangs up abruptly and I throw the phone back into the receiver. The rain pounds against the window and it takes me a long time to calm down.

—

I listen to Delly go on about her mother's disastrous experience at the hair salon as I work up the courage to bring up her weekend plans. It figures the _one_ time I actually need Delly to ask me to hang out, she doesn't. I worry she finally realizes I am socially hopeless.

"So you got any plans for tomorrow? I feel like dancing the week away!" Her face is hopeful; maybe she hasn't given up on me yet.

"I could go dancing," I say casually and she squeals so loud that Peeta comes up from the back to see what the commotion is about.

"Katniss is going out with us tomorrow night!" She beams at Peeta and I try to avoid his gaze, but he catches it anyway. His eyes sparkle with amusement. Delly starts listing the possible outfit combinations in her closet and I immediately regret listening to Haymitch. Peeta seems to sense my nerves and as he walks by he gives my right shoulder an affectionate squeeze.

"It'll be fun," he tries to reassure me but it only makes my stomach sink lower.

If possible, I might be even worse off than before.

—

I chance a glance at myself in the small mirror on my desk and then look away. Delly had shown up on my doorstep an hour ago with the "essentials" (which apparently needs three shopping bags) to get ready for our night out. Currently, my hair is up in complicated curlers and I look like an alien. Delly's hair is also up, but she chose to wrap it around empty soda cans since she is going for a "loose" look tonight. Whatever that means.

"You know, you and Peeta have almost _identical_ record collections." She flips through one of my crates of albums. "Do you listen to a lot of music together at the bakery?"

"I mostly stay up front," I answer. I don't mention how I occasionally hover by the back when I hear a particularly good song on the radio.

"Well neither of you have Natalie Cole which is _so_ far from normal." She shakes her head and pulls out Cheap Trick's _In Color _album and stares at the front. "These guys are decent to look at though. Motorcycles are kind of sexy, don't you think?"

"I guess so." I shrug. "Aren't they kind of dangerous though?"

"That's half the point!" She throws me a wink and I can't help but smile. It's impossible to dislike Delly. Even when she makes me her life size Barbie. "Alright, it's almost time to take your hair down and then we can get you into your outfit and finish makeup!" She advances towards me and I hear my door creak open.

"Katniss? I'm leaving for Amber's sleepover in fifteen minutes. Do you have money in case we see a movie?"

"I left five dollars on the table. That should cover a movie, soda and popcorn." I catch her eye in my mirror and she beams at me.

"Thank you!" Her attention turns to Delly who is struggling to take a hot roller from my hair. "Delly, do you need help?"

"I'd LOVE some, Prim! Can you grab a fun record first and then we'll work on the hair?" Prim dashes to her room. "It must be so nice having a sister. I always have to get ready by myself." I watch her fluff out the curls with a paddle brush as they neatly fall to my shoulders. I realize my assumption Delly only talks to me because it is convenient when she's at the bakery is wrong. Maybe Delly really thinks of me as a friend.

Being as I can count the number of actual friends I have on one hand, the thought of having another, especially a girl, is surprisingly nice.

We listen to ABBA and soon the small bedroom is filled with a haze of hairspray and Chanel No. 5. (Delly says "If it is good enough for Marilyn Monroe then it is good enough for me!"). Prim reluctantly leaves for her sleepover, but urges me to have fun before she goes.

Delly's father won't let her work so she spends most of her days browsing the shops downtown and bought a new outfit for each of us. I try to refuse and then try to pay her back, but she won't take any money. She says it's an honor to "pop my club-going-cherry", which I blush furiously at.

Delly is wearing a mustard color mini-dress with ruffles all down the front and sky-high heels. I'm nervous when she pulls out my outfit, but once I put it on I calm down. The dress is orange, but a muted shade that shows off what is left of my summer tan. It has an eyelet neckline and is shorter than I usually wear, but it's an inch longer than Delly's and the heels she gives me are not nearly as high.

"I…wow Delly. Thanks." I'm not good with words but she seems to understand and pulls me into a hug. I get a face-full of White Rain hairspray and try not to breathe it in. She releases me and smoothes out her dress.

"Okay, so we've got thirty minutes before the boys get here. Follow me!" She leads me to the fridge and yanks the door open. I see a bottle of white wine sitting next to club soda and wince.

"We're going to have wine spritzers! I already chilled them, so now I just need two glasses!" To be honest, I probably need a little liquid courage to face the evening so I oblige.

I've only had beer before and never had more than two in one sitting, so the wine is a foreign taste on my tongue. It's too sweet and the bubbles from the seltzer make it even harder to swallow, but I sip it anyway. We drink and talk and listen to more ABBA, but 9:00 comes quickly and Delly sprays us both with more perfume before we grab our bags.

Peeta is walking up the darkened path to my door when we walk out.

"Beat me to it," I can see his lit up smile from the street lamp. Peeta looks normal: a simple red polo shirt and faded jeans, but I blush anyway when his gaze lands on me. "You look…you look really nice, Katniss." His hands are in his pockets and he shifts from one foot to the other.

"Yeah, it's a little different from the bakery clothes I guess." I offer. He gives a light shake of his head.

"You look nice in those too." I don't know what to say, but I am saved by Delly making a strangled sound in her throat.

"New car?" She asks Tristan, who I notice is leaning on the passenger door of the sedan.

"For the night." He responds casually. "Needed four seats."

"Where'd ya get it from?"

"Get in the car, Delly." Tristan sounds both annoyed and amused. We follow his orders and drive the few blocks down to the club. We really could have walked, but I have the feeling Tristan likes an entrance.

Club Capitol looks like it's trying to be Studio 54 with the obnoxious disco ball and the flashing lights. The DJ starts a Bee Gee's song and I catch Peeta's eye. I raise my eyebrows at him and he leans down to talk directly into my ear.

"Do you think my brother is trying to be John Travolta?" I glance over at Tristan at the moment he tugs his leather jacket off to reveal a far too tight, deep v-neck shirt. I have to stifle a snort.

"If the music fits."

Peeta cracks a grin and offers to get the drinks. Delly grabs my hand and we follow Tristan to a table a few feet from the dance floor. Tristan picks off the "Reserved" sign from the table and flings it behind him.

"This table is reserved," I say before I can help myself. He shoots a look at me.

"It's reserved for us." _Of course_. Thankfully Peeta arrives back with a tray of four fancy looking drinks.

"Daiquris on the house," He shoots Tristan a look I can't read, before handing me a glass. I take a sip: it's sweet like the wine spritzer, but the hint of lime balances it out. It's delicious.

A few daiquiris later, Delly drags me on the dance floor. The lights are flashing and my head is feeling lighter than usual, but I have to admit I am having fun.

"Tristan is such a goof, he _never_ dances." Delly points to where Tristan sits at the table. A few people had come up to him while we enjoyed our drinks. Cato arrived, giving me a very obvious and lewd once-over and asked to speak to Peeta alone. This seemed to upset Tristan and he's been stewing ever since.

"He only smiles around you," I blurt out and Delly makes a face.

"You are buggin' out. I LOVE THIS SONG!" She throws her hands in the air and I laugh because it's the third Donna Summer song they've played tonight and Delly has reacted the same way for each one.

It's nearly pitch black except for the glistening disco ball and the strobe lights, but I see Peeta come towards us and he effortlessly picks up the dance. When we turn to the left, I can feel him behind me and the already hot dance floor seems to rise in temperature. I'm conscious of my hips moving back and forth, but it doesn't bother me that Peeta is only a few inches behind me. If anything, I am encouraged by it and I shake my hair along with the rest of my body.

We rotate again and Peeta and I are nearly touching. I look over, transfixed by how easily he moves across the floor. I know from work that Peeta isn't exactly light on his feet, but right now he is flawless. He catches me looking at him, but instead of looking away I hold his gaze.

I'm not sure how long we're looking at each other, but the next thing I know, he grabs my hand and spins me so I land close to him. We continue to sway to the music but I only focus on the fact that our faces are barely an inch apart.

His normally bright blue eyes are shades darker and his lips slightly part. I feel an urge to tip my chin up, to bring my face closer to his when we hear Delly shout.

"_Peeta_!" She's looking over at the table where Tristan is standing and yelling in the face of a much taller, must bulkier man. Peeta takes off in a flash and Delly and I run after him. Two of the bouncers come over and immediately grab a hold of Tristan and the other man. They drag them out of a side door and throw them both into a parking lot. We follow and I get my first up close glimpse of the other guy.

Tall and muscular, he looks like he has been lifting weights since he could walk. He has a red mark on his left cheek, probably from Tristan, and his expression is downright scary. Two more men have appeared and one holds him back. Peeta grabs a hold of Tristan's jacket.

"I'm not playing with you, Mellark!" The stranger shouts. "You know what I want and you _better _fucking get it!"

"Like hell, Gloss!" Tristan's voice is lethal. "You better send someone bigger and scarier than yourself next time you want to threaten_ me_ on _my_ side of town!"

"You think you're so powerful, huh Mellark? Cause you call all the hits? You may call em, but I'd LOVE to see you carry them out. You tie the cinderblocks on Mike Titus' feet? You put the bullet in Roger Chaff's head?"

"_Shut the fuck up_!" Tristan screams wildly and Peeta struggles to hold him down.

"And it's not because you're a big shot with other important shit to attend to." Gloss gives a short and sadistic laugh. "It's because you're a coward."

It all happens at once.

Tristan breaks free from Peeta's hold and launches himself at Gloss, his fists flying. They fall to the ground and it's a blur of leather jackets and shouting before I see Peeta throw himself into the mix. My stomach tightens and out of the corner of my eye I see one of Gloss' men reach into his pocket and pull out something shiny, pointed. Something that looks eerily like a blade.

"NO!" I shout but the man makes his move and goes for the tussle. "PEETA!" I'm screaming and it's enough to make Peeta look up, see the knife and knock it out of the man's hand with one hard hit. Peeta gets up quickly and gives Tristan a hard pull on his jacket, so hard it takes him off of Gloss.

I've never seen this Peeta before. This Peeta has fire in his eyes, yet an eerily calm expression.

"A knife, Seneca? I'm insulted." Even his voice is different, carefully controlled but thick with unspoken threats.

"What do you know, kid?"

"I know the V.A. isn't fond of having their G.I. benefit checks forged and duplicated." Seneca's anger breaks into shock for a minute, but he quickly recovers. Peeta continues, his tone never rising or falling. "I know Lavinia Jones' son looks nothing like her husband, but looks _unbelievably_ like you. I know-"

"You made your point." He cuts him off, barely holding on to his anger.

"And you've clearly made yours. Coming to this side of the city and starting a fight? And then pulling a stunt with a knife? You know this isn't how it's done." Peeta gives him a mocking smile.

"Times change." Gloss speaks up and I see Tristan tense. Peeta puts his hand on his brother's shoulder and looks at Gloss. Tristan is sporting a black eye and a busted up lip and his loathing for Gloss is obvious.

"Ah, but we Mellarks are old fashioned. You can tell your boss if he wants to talk, he can set up a meet with my father. Any more of this shit and I can't promise I'll pull him off next time." He gives Tristan another pat on the shoulder.

It's quiet as the men stare at each other and it seems to drag on. I fidget in my heels and chance a glance over at Delly. She looks bored and is picking at her nail polish. Is this… _normal_?

"Let's go," Seneca grabs the back of Gloss' shirt and they leave. Our group is quiet as we watch them go and it's not until they are clearly out of the parking lot when Tristan breaks the silence.

"What the hell were you thinking?" He rounds on his younger brother.

"Get in the goddamn car," Peeta's is loosing his control and his voice is laced with fury.

"No I-"

"Jesus Tristan, get in the_ fucking_ car!" I've never heard Peeta raise his voice before and I look over again at Delly. This time, she's paying attention and looks as nervous as I feel.

This isn't good.

_The title to this chapter comes from Bachman-Turner Overdrive 's 1974 hit "You Ain't Seen Nothing Yet"_

_Also, the Donna Summer song Katniss/Peeta dance (before it's so rudely interrupted by mafia antics) is "I Feel Love" (inspiration for the scene is from American Hustle when Bradley Cooper and Amy Adams get all lusty)_

_For more fangirling and silly stories about my adventures in the world/workplace/writing, come stop by tumblr!_


	6. Then the door was open and the wind

_All I can say is a HUGE thank you to justmellarky/acciograce for calming me down when I feel like I am going insane. This chapter was a little nuts to write because so much is about to happen but I don't want to give it all away! I'd love to hear feedback and thank you to the amazing readers who have left love on this story. You guys rock :)_

_**Chapter 5: Then the door was open and the wind appeared**_

The driver door slams shut and Peeta starts the car.

"What the_ hell _were you thinking?" He shouts, hitting the gas pedal a little too hard and lurching the car forward.

"What was _I_ thinking?!" Tristan's voice is as loud as Peeta's. "I wasn't the one who told them to call up our father and arrange a fucking meeting!"

"If I hadn't, your face would be on the cement instead of your body!"

They are silent for a minute. I feel Delly's gaze on me, but I can't take my eyes off of Peeta's shaking arms as he maneuvers the steering wheel. We turn out of the parking lot and on to the deserted avenue.

"How do you know all of that shit anyway? You're not supposed to be involved." Tristan's voice is quieter than before, but it hasn't lost any roughness.

"I'm not involved." Peeta's volume drops too, but even at his angriest Peeta's voice always lacks the bitter edge of his brother's.

"Well it sure sounded like it. And if those assholes think you're involved, you're involved."

My breathing quickens and my hands clench at my sides. I'm not sure if there is a good guy in this situation, but the thought of those people coming near Peeta again brings out a protective side in me.

"_I__'__m not involved_." Peeta repeats through gritted teeth.

There is silence again and this time no one breaks it. When Peeta pulls up to my building I get out of the car as quickly as possible and make a beeline for the front door. It's not until I am inside and the door is fully shut that I hear the car drive away.

I try not to dwell on the sweetness of Peeta waiting until I was safely inside. In fact, I try not to dwell on anything.

But my mind has other plans.

I replay the night as I wash the layer of makeup off of my face, from the drinking to the dancing to the fighting. I knew this night would be weird but I didn't expect it to turn out so dramatic. I wrestle with how much to tell Haymitch.

_I_ don't understand half of what happened tonight and I was _there_, Haymitch probably wouldn't get it at all. And it may be wrong, but I don't want to put Peeta on Haymitch's radar any more than he already is.

—

I dream of a sharp silver blade and cold blue eyes and I wake up with a gasp.

It's after nine and it takes a few breaths for me to calm down. I run a hand through my still curled hair and look on the nightstand for a hair tie before I head to the kitchen.

The apartment is deadly quiet. While the coffee starts, I bring my record player back into the living room area and plug it in. I browse through my albums absentmindedly before landing on one I haven't listened to in years. After staring at it for entirely too long, I slide the record out of the case and it starts the all too familiar tune.

I'm about to sit to eat my scrambled eggs when there's a loud knock at my door, followed by three short knocks. I half smile and half groan, already knowing who is on the other side.

Gale Hawthorne stands with his arms crossed over his chest. When we were little, Gale and I were constantly mistaken for siblings because of our similar looks. Our fathers were close friends and it's hard for me to remember a time in my childhood when Gale wasn't around, always looking out for me even when I didn't want the help.

"Heard _you_ were out dancing with Peeta Mellark last night." His statement and his tone means he's looking for a reaction and I chose to ignore him and get some coffee. "Heard you two were pretty close."

"Don't know where or why you heard that." I pour the steaming liquid into my cup, only filling it three quarters of the way. I like a lot of cream and sugar to balance out the bitter caffeine.

"Are you dating your boss?"

I whip my head around, gaping at him. "What?! No!"

"Do you _want _to date your boss?" Gale asks the question like someone would ask if I am liking the weather and it infuriates me.

"Do you have _anything_ better to do at 9:30 a.m. than to ask me that question?"

"Nope." Gale takes one of the folding chairs and flips it around before sitting down on it. "Seriously Catnip," I raise my eyebrows at him. Does he expect me to be serious when he still uses that stupid nickname for me? But his eyes shift and he sits up a little straighter. "You know I was a little worried when you started working there-"

"A little?" I ask. Gale was furious with me when I started at the bakery. He bartends at Ripper's, one of the local hangouts, and has always been distrustful of people who associate with the Mellark family. He has firm beliefs about working hard and making money the honest way: Gale says we might never get rich, but at least we can sleep with ease.

I felt the same way until I started working with the police. Now I barely sleep through the night, and the anxious knot in my chest never fully leaves.

"…the point is, you just have to be careful, alright?" I realize I've been ignoring Gale but he doesn't seem to notice.

"Alright." I nod. "But you really don't have to worry. It was just a random, one night out kind of thing. It's not like I'm in their _group_." And I wasn't. Right as I take a large sip of coffee the phone rings, so Gale gets up to answer. His voice is as gruff as usual, but after a second he slowly turns to face me, a look of pure amusement on his face.

"Delly Cartwrightis on the phone for you." I let out a sigh. Of course she is. I reach for the phone as Gale starts to slowly chuckle.

"Hello?"

"Oh my god Katniss, who WAS that!" She sounds scandalized.

"It was just Gale." My breakfast is getting cold and I motion for Gale to bring me over the eggs, but he's too busy mouthing 'Delly Cartwright?' at me.

"As in _Gale Hawthorne_?"

"Yeah-"

"Are you guys _together_?" She says the word in a whisper, like she's asking me for the safe code to Capitol City Bank.

"No." I have gotten used to that over the years: when you spend a lot of time with someone (and especially when you are me, who barely spends time with anyone) people will assume things. It doesn't exactly bother me, but it gets old explaining to people how we are just friends. Delly gets the same thing with Peeta, so she immediately understands.

"Gotcha. Well he is a HUNK, he's got the whole dark and handsome thing going on. Anyway I was calling because after all that crazy last night I totally forgot to grab my stuff from your room." There's a knock at the door and Gale gets up to answer it. Delly is rattling on about what an idiot Tristan is, but I barely register her words when I see who is on the other side.

It's Peeta.

Peeta, who is looking between Gale and I in confusion. Gale, who is grinning like a kid on Christmas morning. And me. In my pajamas.

"Uh, Delly?" I interupt her rant. "I gotta go…Peeta's here." She lets out a loud cackle.

"Well that's an interesting crowd! No problem, just send all of my stuff home with Peeta and then I won't have to leave the house without my mascara. See ya!" She hangs up the phone and I turn around. Peeta is already showered and dressed for the day and I notice he is holding a brown Mellark's bag in his right hand.

"Hi." _Really smooth, Katniss. _

"Hi." His voice is hesitant but he slightly smiles.

"Hi!" We both turn to Gale. His smirk is making my blood boil.

"Gale just stopped by to, uh," I wrack my brain but can't seem to think of a reason Gale is here other than he takes extreme enjoyment out of being a pain in the ass.

"To make sure Katniss and Prim are coming to Sunday dinner at my mom's. She's making meatloaf." I nod in agreement and he gives a shake of his head before shooting me another smile. "See ya Catnip." I wave and as he ducks out behind Peeta he makes a ridiculous kissy face. I slam the door shut.

"So," I turn to Peeta, not realizing how close I have gotten to him. A whiff of his aftershave immediately brings me back to last night. I have never danced with anyone like that before. Our bodies were practically pushed up against each other and for a second I had thought maybe…

"I got you breakfast," he holds up the bag. "I'm really sorry about last night, Katniss." He doesn't break eye contact. "I shouldn't have gotten into the middle of that mess and said all of those things in front of you-"

"The swears didn't bother me," I give him a small smile. "I was just…well he had a knife and you were right there," I shrug before taking the bag from him. "I didn't want you to get hurt."

"If you hadn't yelled out, I might have. Thank you," He sounds incredibly sincere and it's starting to make me feel uncomfortable so I play it off with another shrug.

"I'm just glad it's all over." His eyes shift down quickly and I see him bite the cheek, but as quickly as the look crosses his face, it leaves it. His features smooth out again and he smiles.

"Van Morrison?" He asks and I hear the record is still playing.

"It was my dad's," I say quietly. I don't tell Peeta it was one of the last albums he bought, that one of the last memories I have of him is twirling Prim and I across the floor to "Come Running" while my mom laughed on our cozy old couch. I don't tell him listening to it makes me feel a mix of laughter and incredible sadness, but somehow I think he understands.

"Are you going to really let these cinnamon buns get as cold as your original breakfast choice?" He nods towards the table where my eggs sit untouched. I give him a look, but it only amuses him more. "I mean, I am fine to eat a dozen cinnamon buns by myself-" I perk up and open the bag. Sure enough, I am hit with the rich smell of cinnamon and melted butter and I sigh in happiness.

We sit together at the table with coffee and cinnamon buns and talk about music and the upcoming Superman film. The album repeats itself and it's not until an exhausted-looking Prim comes in that Peeta realizes he's been here over an hour. I give him Delly's three bags of clothing and hair products and Peeta doesn't seem surprised or bothered by it.

"So I'll see you at the bakery tomorrow?" He hovers in my doorway and I don't miss the slight nervousness in his question.

"Always."

He looks relieved. _Did he really think I would quit because I saw him swing a punch and heard him say fuck? _I lock up after him and I listen to Van Morrison the rest of the day.

—

Haymitch looks hungover, which is unusual because it's six pm but it doesn't stop me from laying into him the moment he sits in the booth.

"Well I _hope_ you're happy: I almost got in the middle of a criminal throw-down because you told me to go out with those maniacs." I cross my arms and wait for him to groan and tell me I'm not helping the pounding in his head, but his reaction surprises me. He sits up straight and his eyes are clear and alert.

"Who were they fighting?"

"Um, it was really all Tristan doing the fighting. And their names were, uh, Gloss and…" I wrack my brain for the name of the guy with the intricate beard. "Seneca. There was another one too, but I don't know his name. No one got too badly hurt, Peeta calmed it down. He said if they want to talk to arrange a meeting with his father." At this Haymitch's eyes darken and a look of fear crosses his face.

"Shit," he mutters and sits back in his seat. I can feel something shift.

"What is it?" He doesn't answer. "Haymitch, who are those people?"

"Snow's men." I draw a blank. Surely someone who could put a look like that on a detective's face would have a more intimidating name than Snow. "Fairly high up ones too."

"High up?"

"There's a reason they call it organized crime, sweetheart. There's a strict ranking system, ridged rules you do not break. The men at the top are not only powerful, they are smart. They throw around the word family but it's a business."

"So how does Snow fit into this?"

"He's _just_ business." Haymitch's face darkens. "Bad business. His men push drugs, girls and weapons and they take out anyone who stands in their way." I feel numb and my face must change because Haymitch hesitates.

"But how?" I find it impossible the police would knowingly let a person like this stay in operation.

"Fear." The single word sends a shiver down my spine. We're quiet for a minute before Haymitch speaks again. "Listen, this game just got a lot more dangerous. I'm pulling you off duty."

"_What_?" Of all of the things he has said tonight, this makes the least sense.

"You were there. They'll be watching you too."

"I was there because you told me to go!" I'm probably more angry than I really should be, considering I've hated this secret job from the beginning but I always intended to finish it. "What about the information you need?"

"I'll survive." He's so nonchalant and it makes me see red.

"Fine!" I violently push myself out of the booth but he grabs my wrist before I can make a full turn.

"You've still got my number." I scowl. "Use it if you need it." He looks like he wants to say something more, but I am through with this conversation.

"Save it for your next time you waste someone's time."

I don't wait to see his reaction.

_The chapter title comes from the Blue Oyster Cult song "Don't Fear The Reaper" (insert cowbell joke) and the next chapter is ALL EVERLARK!_


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